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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27249937">Chill Pills</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgodmyeyes/pseuds/ohgodmyeyes'>ohgodmyeyes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wrecked Middle-Aged Anakin [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anakin is a Dirty Old Man, Couch Sex, Do Not Actually Mix Ativan With Vodka Mmkay, Drinking, Drug Use, F/M, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Humour?, Large Cock, Medication, Middle-Aged Anakin Skywalker, One Shot, Pills, Prescription Drug Abuse, Reader-Insert, Riding, Smoking, Smut, Snooping, Strip Tease, Swearing, Vaginal Sex, tripping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:08:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,229</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27249937</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohgodmyeyes/pseuds/ohgodmyeyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>One day, you decide to take a peek inside a shoebox you find under the derelict old couch in Anakin's garage. He catches you snooping, and although he seems annoyed at first, he eventually concedes to letting you try one of the many, many kinds of unused prescription pills he's been keeping inside of it.</p><p>Sometimes it's fun to experiment.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anakin Skywalker/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wrecked Middle-Aged Anakin [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Chill Pills</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"What the fuck do you think you're doing? <i>Put that shit down!"</i></p><p>"Fuck! Sorry!"</p><p>You did as you'd been told, and took your hands off of the cardboard shoebox you'd pulled out from beneath the ratty old sofa in Anakin's garage. You never had noticed it before; the only reason you'd seen it today was very likely because you'd dropped your lighter on the floor, and had opted to go rooting around for it.</p><p>"Fucking kids don't know how to mind their own goddamn fucking business," he grumbled to himself, walking over to where you'd placed the box on the plywood-topped coffee table. "Hand that to me, will you?" he said, reaching out with his left hand.</p><p>"Here," you told him, picking up the box and thrusting it toward him. You assumed he was going to put it up and out of your reach... but he didn't seem to know what to do with it, so instead he sat down on the couch next to you and held it protectively in his lap. </p><p>You lit the cigarette you'd been planning on lighting all along with a match he'd left on the table before exiting the room, and sat back in your seat. After a few long moments of silence, you asked him, "What the fuck <i>is</i> all that shit, anyway?" You hadn't gotten a very good look at the contents of the box before you'd been ordered to leave it alone, but you'd seen enough to know it was full of drugs. Pills in bottles, to be precise— the weight of the thing told you they were probably all full, or close to it.</p><p>"None of your business," he said gruffly, before letting the box rest on his legs so that he could pull out and light a smoke of his own. </p><p>"You get those from a doctor, or a guy behind the 7-11?" you asked next, ignoring what he'd just told you.</p><p>"Fuck off," he said. After a long, smokey pause, he finally gave you a bit of insight into what you'd been curious about: "...They don't work," he admitted as he watched the smoke from his cigarette waft up to the ceiling. The ceiling was all wooden beams and planks. </p><p>"So they <i>are</i> from a doctor? What the fuck is wrong with you that you need to take that much shit?"</p><p>"I <i>don't</i> take any of it— I told you, they don't work." He seemed a bit more relaxed now, but he didn't look over at you. You figured he was still pissed off that you'd pulled the box out in the first place, which was fine. You were used to him being pissed off. </p><p>"Well," you tried, "what are they <i>supposed</i> to do?" You were curious; even if he didn't want to tell you, you still wanted to know.</p><p>He didn't answer you, at least not right away. What he did do was close his eyes and take a deep, long haul off his smoke before very slowly exhaling it through his nose. He looked like an irritated dragon, or maybe a really weird ornamental incense holder. </p><p>You let a few more quiet moments pass before prompting him, "Anakin? What are they sup—"</p><p>"They're supposed to make me less of a piece of shit," he finally answered, <i>"but they don't fucking work.</i> That's why I keep them in a box under the goddamn couch." </p><p>"What do you mean? Are they, like, tranquilizers?" Of all the people you'd ever met, you figured Anakin would benefit the most from taking what you guessed amounted to a chill pill.</p><p>"Some of them." He still didn't open his eyes.</p><p>"Do they do <i>anything?"</i> You sat up a bit taller and leaned over in his direction; tried to peer back into the well-worn box through a little hole in the top.</p><p>Somehow, he must have known you were peeking, because he covered the hole up with his hand. "Why the fuck do you care?" he asked.</p><p>"Because I do." You hesitated before offering, "My mom takes Prozac." You weren't sure why you'd put forth that bit of information; maybe it was relevant. Maybe it would get him to tell you about <i>his</i> pills. </p><p>It made him laugh, at least. As he finally opened up his eyes and looked back over at you, "Prozac doesn't do shit."</p><p>"That's what's in there, then?"</p><p>He sighed as though he were frustrated, then dropped his spent cigarette into the coffee can beside the couch. He opened up the box, and looked over the caps of the bottles. They varied in both size and colour. "This one," he said as he picked out a container seemingly at random and squinted at the label, "makes my tongue go numb." He put it back and plucked out another; then, "This one makes it so I can't get a hard-on." </p><p>"Shit."</p><p>"This one," he said of yet another bottle, "makes me want to hang myself. And <i>this</i> one," he informed you of the next little jar, "makes me fucking fat."</p><p>"Christ," you said. No wonder he didn't take them. "So there's nothing fun in there?" </p><p>He rifled through the box a bit more, as if looking for one kind of pill in particular. When he found the bottle he must have been after, he pulled it out and held it up to your face. "This one gets me horny, but it also makes the walls breathe— and you have to take more of them every time or they stop working."</p><p>"Breathing walls?" you asked. That didn't sound so bad, especially if those ones actually let him get hard.</p><p>"It's a fucking trip," he confirmed, "but like I said, you need more and more of them if you want to keep having fun with them— it's not worth it to get hooked and then have your fucking asshole doctor tell you to fuck off." He said that as though it was precisely what had happened to him in the past.</p><p>You decided to take a chance. "Can I try one of them, then?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I want to try one— they sound neat."</p><p>"You're fucking stupid."</p><p>You laughed, because you'd already long-since established that. "Maybe," you said, "but I still wanna try one."</p><p>"One won't do anything fun," he said, as he put the box on the floor and held the wall-breathers tightly between his knees so that he could use his one good hand to twist open the child-proof cap. </p><p>"How many do I have to take?" You guessed he'd just conceded to sharing with you.</p><p>"I don't know— I usually need four or five of them to feel decent, but you'll probably only need two or three." He picked up the bottle with his fake hand and carefully dumped some of them out into his opposite palm.</p><p>"So can I...?"</p><p>"Yeah, go ahead," he said, holding his hand out to you.</p><p>You grabbed three— if you were going to try them out, you wanted to get the full effect. "Got anything for me to wash them down with?"</p><p>"Pussy," he teased, as he popped into his mouth the remainder of what he'd dumped out and swallowed hard. "Here," he said next, offering you a mickey of vodka from the floor.</p><p>"Are you supposed to drink with these?" you asked skeptically. You wanted to get high, not die in a nasty garage.</p><p>"It won't kill you," he scoffed, as though he'd read your mind. </p><p>"You sure?"</p><p>"I'm sure."</p><p>"Okay, then," you said, and you took your three pills all at once with a generous shot of liquor, after which you passed the bottle back to him. </p><p>With a swig of his own, he looked down at you and grinned. "Now, we wait."</p><p>...As it turned out, you didn't have to wait very long. By the time you'd each finished off another cigarette, you were definitely feeling something; something more than the warm creep of the vodka making its way through your system.</p><p>"Holy shit," you said, because you almost hadn't believed him about the moving walls. It really had started to look like the space around you was breathing— it warped and pulsated; when you looked upward, the knots on the wooden beams supporting the ceiling seemed to be twirling themselves into the loveliest patterns.</p><p>"Isn't that <i>nice?"</i> he asked with a chuckle, having closed his eyes and settled back into his seat again. "How do you feel?"</p><p>"Great," you said. After a pause, "...You know, I kind of feel like dancing." You really did. Your limbs felt loose and limber, and there was an irrepressible smile spreading across your face. In sharp contrast with Anakin, you weren't an especially anxious person... but right now you felt like nothing could possibly go wrong. You felt free; freer than you ever had... and for whatever reason, it made you want to get up and dance.</p><p>Anakin laughed at that, and he laughed loudly. "Dance? You're fucking crazy." He opened his eyes up again, and tilted his head to look at you. "If you want to dance, then fucking dance— I'm not going to stop you."</p><p>"Get up and dance <i>with</i> me," you pleaded, tugging at his arm as you went ahead stood up unsteadily. </p><p>"Fuck off," he said, grinning at you as he pulled his arm from your grasp. "I don't fucking dance. If you want to put on a show for me, though, go right ahead— I'll watch."</p><p>"A 'show'? You're a filthy fucking old man, you know that?"</p><p>"I sure do," he confirmed, and it was then that you realized he didn't quite seem like himself. Rather than tense and angry, right now Anakin seemed happy— almost like a normal person. The difference was palpable.</p><p>You were already standing up in front of the couch, so you shrugged, and then began to sway— you moved your hips and rolled your shoulders; even did a little twirl. There wasn't any music, but somehow that didn't matter to you right now. </p><p>"That's fucking perfect," laughed Anakin, as he took another sip of vodka, and put down the bottle to light another cigarette. "You gonna take your clothes off for me, or am I just supposed to use my imagination?"</p><p>"Shut the fuck up," you smiled, and you started to pull at your shirt. You thought you might fall down when you lost sight of the room as you pulled it over your head, but you didn't; not quite, anyway. When it was off, you tossed it at him. He didn't quite catch it, but he still looked more than happy with your performance. </p><p>"Lose the bra!" he hooted, probably altogether too loudly. "Show me those gorgeous fucking tits!" </p><p>No, you thought hazily, he definitely wasn't himself right now... but you didn't mind this version of him so far; not even a bit. You reached clumsily around yourself to try and unclasp your bra, only to find that you didn't possess the dexterity right now. Instead, you pulled the whole thing off over your head; once you were free of it, you tossed that at him too.</p><p>"Nice," he said approvingly, plucking it off of his lap and setting it beside himself on the couch, beside his smokes. "What are you gonna take off next?"</p><p>All you had left was your jeans and panties, so as you turned around (likely without much grace, although neither of you was in a state that would allow you to care about that), you wrenched your jeans over your ass and gave it a wiggle for him. He seemed to love that, although getting your pants the rest of the way off was an exercise in balance for which you were less than prepared. </p><p>"You need a fucking hand?" he chortled, as you came close to tumbling right over in the process of tugging them off your legs.</p><p>"I'm good," you told him, noticing very suddenly just how light-headed you happened to feel. You paused to look around yourself as you stood back up straight in just your panties, and realized that the pretty patterns in the ceiling and on the walls had become even more intricate. </p><p>You must have been standing there gawking a bit too long, because you heard Anakin ask as though from very far away, "You okay?" </p><p>"I'm... <i>fine,"</i> you told him, and then you noticed he happened to be hard as a rock behind the zipper of his trousers. It was always obvious when Anakin got hard.</p><p>He must have caught you staring, because he smirked, and shifted to start to unfasten his pants with his hand. You noticed him leaving trails as he moved; it looked like there were ten of him, until your vision came back into focus. As he pulled out his cock and began to stroke it, he said irreverently, "Did you know I used to be right-handed?"</p><p>You laughed and started to peel your panties off, having given up on your little dance. You loved Anakin's dick; the sight of it was enough to make your mouth and pussy water in tandem. He might have been old, but he was beautiful, and his hard-on was pretty, too— pretty, and inordinately large even for his broad frame. </p><p>Of course, his size had never, ever bothered you.</p><p>"What the fuck has that got to do with anything?" you asked of his former right-handedness. </p><p>"I had to learn how to fucking jerk off all over again when my stupid fucking arm came off," he lamented, and for some reason that put an image in your mind of the limb just randomly falling away from his body as he walked down the street. That made you laugh even more, as you kicked your panties away from where you were standing.</p><p>"Jesus Christ, Anakin," was all you could manage to say, before you found that he'd slid his own pants down past his hips for the purpose of shedding them entirely. </p><p>"Get on," he said, motioning between his legs. "I've been looking forward to this all fucking day."</p><p>You had been too, so you smiled and nodded as you moved to straddle him where he sat. The motion felt so fluid you could hardly believe it; one minute you were standing naked, and the next he was entirely buried inside of you. You barely noticed the stretch until you began to sloppily move your hips, at which point you squealed and dug your nails into his chest through his shirt. Anakin had the perfect chest for clawing at. </p><p>"Fuck <i>yes,"</i> he groaned, placing his hands on either side of your waist. The metal one usually felt cold, but right now it didn't. "You're such a good little slut— you know how much I fucking love this, don't you?"</p><p>"Mmhm," you confirmed wordlessly, and you leaned into him closely while you kept on bucking. Your lips were right next to his jaw, so you started to nip and kiss at it; his jaw was as perfect as the rest of his old, overwrought body.</p><p>"The... fuck... are you... <i>doing?"</i> he asked haltingly, probably because you just about never kissed him— on his jaw, or anywhere else.</p><p>"You feel good," you told him, which wasn't really an answer, but you were quite certain he understood whatever it was you meant. He raised his real hand next to grab at your hair. Gently (or maybe he wasn't gentle at all; you wouldn't have been able to tell right then), he pulled your head back so you were nose-to-nose with him. After staring into your eyes for a brief moment, he kissed you right on the mouth as he thrust his own hips sharply upwards. He'd certainly never ventured to kiss you before. He tasted like smoke and vodka, but so did you.</p><p>You moaned into him at the sensation of his slamming into you, and squeezed your eyes shut as you clenched around his cock. That seemed to encourage him to keep going; while he continued with his frenzied rutting, he prodded at your teeth with his tongue. He was feeling his way around your mouth excitedly, likely because it was the only part of you he didn't know intimately yet. It felt wonderful— you might never have had a reason to kiss him before (you still didn't), but to do so was as enjoyable as anything else you'd ever let him do to you.</p><p>Finally he pulled away, tightening his grip on your hair as he threw his own head back and shouted. Drunk and high or not, you'd never have failed to recognize the way it felt to have him burst inside you. You cried out, too, although you couldn't be sure if it was because of the way he was tugging on your hair, or if it was because you loved feeling him throb while he was still buried up to his balls in your pussy.</p><p>Upon later reflection, you would realize it was probably a bit of both.</p><p>Panting and groaning, you didn't pull him out of you right away; didn't get up off of him. Uncharacteristically, you let yourself fall against his chest instead. You had to keep your eyes closed, because when you ventured to open them even a little bit, you found the entire room was swirling around you. You felt a bit like you were going to throw up, but you didn't care because you also felt good— great, in fact.</p><p>"Fuck, Anakin," you breathed, putting your arms around him and squeezing him tight. At the same time, you stuck your nose up next to his jaw again, enjoying how warm he seemed to have become.</p><p>"Those fucking pills make you an <i>affectionate</i> little whore, huh?" he teased, and although he didn't embrace you in return, he also didn't order or force you off of him. What he did do was carefully shift to retrieve the pack of cigarettes he'd set down next to himself on the sofa, stick one of them into his mouth, and fish around between the cushions for a light. When he found one, he lit up his smoke and inhaled deeply. Graciously, he was as careful as he could possibly be about not burning you; you were, after all, still draped over him like a fleece throw.</p><p>"I like them," you murmured of the pills, before starting to giggle uncontrollably into his shirt.</p><p>"What's so fucking funny?" he asked, and despite his phrasing, he sounded perfectly happy— still very much unlike the way he did normally. Again, you didn't mind him like this. You wished his doctor wasn't such an asshole about these particular pills; they seemed to work great, especially chased with vodka.</p><p>You couldn't possibly answer his question, though, because by then you were passed almost all the way out, right on his chest. His softened dick was still tucked most of the way inside of you, and his smoke wafted about your head like a poorly-conceived little crown.</p><p>You didn't hear him, but he chuckled and shook his head at your body's low tolerance for his favourite pills. Then— after he finished his smoke— he rested his good arm loosely around your back before joining you in falling asleep.</p><p>Both of you would feel like hammered shit when you woke up, but right now you truly didn't care.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Haha. Thank you so much if you made it to the end.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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